


Now You Are Ready to Swim

by BillyMitchell



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillyMitchell/pseuds/BillyMitchell
Summary: Albert is feeling sick on the job one day, and when Gordon tries to help him, a secret is revealed.Along with being a Twin Peaks fanfiction, this story was also heavily inspired by Olivia Gatwood's poem, "Jordan Convinced Me That Pads Are Disgusting."
Relationships: Gordon Cole/Albert Rosenfield
Kudos: 6





	Now You Are Ready to Swim

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for brief allusions to gender dysphoria and mentions of menstruation. These will primarily appear in the first chapter.

Special Agent Albert Rosenfield was only a few hours into his shift that morning, but he felt like he’d been there forever. Or, more precisely, he felt like an ice pick was being jammed into his skull, at the same time a rusty knife was being driven into his lower stomach. And on top of that, his skin was burning.

And even though Gordon Cole, the FBI Regional Bureau Chief with whom Albert had always worked quite closely, was as loud and deaf as ever, Albert was struggling to make out even a single word he was saying today.

All he knew was the two of them were having a meeting about a Blue Rose case, so private and sensitive it had to happen in Gordon’s home rather than in his office at the Bureau, where anyone could be listening at the door.

Albert took another sip of coffee, and, almost immediately, bile rose in his throat. He gulped it down and covered his mouth.

“ALBERT?” Gordon asked, even louder than usual.

Both the volume and Gordon’s tone made Albert wonder how many times Gordon had actually said his name before he’d noticed.

Albert looked up, and saw that Gordon’s eyes were wide. Another stab of pain edged its way into his stomach.

“IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT WITH YOU?” Gordon asked. When Albert again neglected to respond, he added, “YOU DON’T LOOK WELL, ALBERT, AND I BET YOU’D AGREE WITH ME THAT IF I GAVE YOU A POP QUIZ ON WHAT’S BEEN SAID TODAY, YOU’D FAIL EVERY QUESTION. NOW THAT’S NOT LIKE YOU AT ALL. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S WRONG.”

Albert gulped down more bile that tasted like sour milk.

“I’m not feeling my best,” he said.

“CAUGHT A BUG?” Gordon asked, reaching over to touch Albert’s hand.

Albert drew his hand away, sharply. He knew it was nice that Gordon cared about him, but he didn’t need any of that touchy-feely crap this morning.

A beat of silence passed before Albert at last managed to choke out, “You could say—you could say I’ve had a bug for awhile. Gordon, can I use your bathroom?”

“BY ALL MEANS,” Gordon said, that look of worry not leaving his face for a second. “IT’S DOWN THE HALL, IN CASE YOU’VE FORGOTTEN. DO YOU NEED ME TO COME—”

“We’re not schoolgirls,” Albert all but sneered as he stood up.

He didn’t make it a single step before his vision blurred and he felt himself start to fall. The last thing he remembered before everything went dark was Gordon jumping out of his chair and lunging toward him, arms outstretched.

When Albert came to, he was lying in a large bed, staring up at a ceiling fan. Both of these things were unfamiliar to him. The way the blades on the fan whirled around were making him dizzy, so he closed his eyes mere seconds after opening them. That wasn’t fast enough for his wakefulness to escape notice.

“LOOK WHO’S ALIVE,” Gordon’s voice boomed, above and to the right. “YOU WERE KNOCKED OUT SO COLD I WAS AFRAID YOU’D NEVER WAKE UP. HOW ARE YOU, ALBERT?”

Albert flinched when Gordon pressed a cold washcloth to his face, but it didn’t take long for him not to mind it.

“Better,” Albert said, as pleasantly as he could manage. “The worst of it’s passed. I think—”

His eyes opened again when he realized he was no longer wearing the suit he’d had on before he passed out. Now, he was in a t-shirt and a pair of cloth shorts he couldn’t exactly pinpoint as too loose or too tight. He just knew they didn’t fit like his own.

“I GAVE YOU SOMETHING FOR THE PAIN. I HOPE THAT’S ALRIGHT.”

Albert swung himself into a seated position, so fast it felt like the room spun as the washcloth fell to the ground.

Gordon jumped a bit, but he didn’t try to pull away when Albert grabbed him by the collar and yanked him so close the two of them could taste each other’s breath. He just stared at Albert with raised eyebrows, as if intrigued.

“What did you see?” Albert demanded, as close as he could get to yelling without actually doing so.

Images swirled in his head of the twin scars running along the bottom of his chest, and of what was lower…

“Albert,” Gordon said, his voice high and thin, as if Albert was choking the breath right out of him, “what I saw’s what I saw, and you don’t need to tell me anything about it.”

“Fuck,” Albert said, letting go of Gordon and burying his head in his hands. “Well, fine then. I’d appreciate if you’d stop holding me in suspense. What do you plan to do about me?”

“I SHOULD DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOU?” Gordon asked, placing his hand, soft and firm, on Albert’s shoulder.

This time, Albert didn’t shake him away. As angry as he was with Gordon, he could use some comfort, though he wouldn’t admit that aloud.

“People like me,” Albert grumbled, looking at Gordon through the space between his fingers, “aren’t supposed to be in the FBI. My staying in this position has always hinged on nobody, ever, seeing what you just saw.”

“WELL, THAT’S A SHAME,” Gordon said, “BECAUSE YOU’RE ONE OF THE BEST AGENTS I HAVE AND I’LL BE DAMNED IF I LET YOU GO ANYWHERE.”

Albert shook his head. It took a few minutes before he could think of something to say.

“Why,” he asked, “why did you take my clothes off?”

“YOU WERE HOT AS A STOVETOP WHEN I CAUGHT YOU. I DIDN’T THINK YOU SHOULD STAY IN YOUR SUIT.” Gordon paused. “AND DON’T PANIC, BUT THERE WAS SOME BLOOD ON YOUR PANTS. I THOUGHT YOU’D HURT YOURSELF SOMEHOW, EVEN THOUGH I CAUGHT YOU BEFORE YOU MANAGED TO HIT THE FLOOR OR THE EDGE OF MY TABLE. I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE ALRIGHT. I’M SORRY IF THAT WAS AN INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY, BUT I WAS WORRIED.”

Albert shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was undergoing another damn month of this torture. No, actually he could believe it, because it seemed like this would never end for him. He wondered when it had started today. It must have been sometime between getting in the car to go to work that morning and when he stood up from Gordon’s kitchen table.

“LUCKY I KEEP PADS AROUND FOR GUESTS WHO NEED THEM,” Gordon said. “I DIDN’T FIND ANY ON YOU.”

God, Albert must be feeling distant from his body today. Until now, he hadn’t even noticed the bulky pad Gordon had used to line the boxer briefs he wore, which also definitely weren’t his own. Of course, now it was all he could think about as he shifted from side to side.

“Fuck,” he said again, feeling another hot flash coming on.

He should have known what he was feeling today wasn’t any ordinary sickness.

“NOW, DON’T MAKE ME WASH THAT MOUTH OF YOURS OUT WITH SOAP,” Gordon said with a half-smile.

Albert glared at him, unamused.

“CAN I ASK YOU SOMETHING? AND DON’T THINK FOR A SECOND THAT YOU HAVE TO ANSWER.”

Albert didn’t say anything, but nodded for Gordon to go on.

“THOSE SHOULD STOP AFTER AWHILE, SHOULDN’T THEY? ESPECIALLY WHEN SOMEONE’S LOOKED AS—” At that, he gave Albert a light punch on his stubbly jawline. “—AS LONG AS YOU HAVE.”

“Under normal circumstances it would, but I use the topical gel, not the injections,” Albert said.

Gordon shook his head. His face was blank. Of course it was.

“Some things happen slower with the gel,” Albert said, his voice as measured as he could make it, “and some things might not happen at all.”

Gordon licked his lips, looking thoughtful before he said, “WHY NOT SWITCH TO THE SHOTS, THEN?”

Albert glared at Gordon again. He didn’t know why he was so angry with him, though a lot of the time he didn’t know why he was so angry with anyone. He just was, and Gordon was always so frustratingly chipper about it.

“I can’t,” he said, “bring myself to jam that giant of a needle in myself. Is that so odd? And before you ask, I’m not going to any doctor every couple weeks to have them prod at me. Anyway, I haven’t exactly done a lot of this legally. It’s so hard to do that that a lot of us don’t. Even if I went to the doctor I would be making a switch from a medication I was never approved to have in the first place, and things could get messy. So I’ll just keep rubbing something on my shoulders every day that can make me look like a man but can’t stop me from bleeding like a… ugh. Are you happy?”

He thought he saw Gordon chuckle. He could practically hear him asking if he’d gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, but he didn’t. 

“YOU’VE NEVER THOUGHT OF LETTING SOMEONE ELSE DO IT FOR YOU? NOT A DOCTOR, JUST A FRIEND?”

“No one I still speak to knows anything about this,” Albert said through gritted teeth.

“WELL, UNLESS YOU PLAN TO GIVE ME THE SILENT TREATMENT FOR YOUR REMAINING DECADES AT THE BUREAU, SOMEONE YOU’LL STILL SPEAK TO KNOWS NOW.”

Feeling like he’d been shocked, Albert asked, “You’re keeping me on?”

“YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE ON MY WATCH,” Gordon said. “AS I’D LIKE TO REITERATE, YOU’RE ONE OF MY BEST AGENTS. I WILL STRONGLY ADVISE, THOUGH, THAT YOU CONSIDER DOING THE SHOTS INSTEAD OF THAT GEL, WHETHER YOU PROCURE IT UNDER THE TABLE OR NOT, UNLESS THERE’S SOMETHING OTHER THAN FEAR HOLDING YOU BACK. IF BLEEDING LIKE THAT AFFECTS YOUR WORK AND WELL-BEING LIKE THIS, I DON’T WANT IT HAPPENING TO YOU ANYMORE.”

“I can’t—” Albert started to insist again.

“NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT,” Gordon said. “NEEDLES DON’T BOTHER ME, AND YOU COME TO MY HOUSE OFTEN ENOUGH AS IT IS, AT LEAST ONCE EVERY COUPLE OF WEEKS. IT WON’T BE ANY INCONVENIENCE FOR ME TO DO IT FOR YOU.”

“I don’t like relying on anyone else for any of this,” Albert said. “I can’t ask you to—”

“NOW, ALBERT,” Gordon protested, “I RESPECT YOUR AUTONOMY, I DO, BUT IF YOU HADN’T LET SOMEONE TAKE CARE OF YOU MOMENTS AGO YOU WOULD’VE WOKEN UP THIS AFTERNOON WITH A CONCUSSION INSTEAD OF A FRESH SET OF CLOTHES. I WANT TO HELP YOU, NOTHING MORE AND NOTHING LESS.”

Albert, who had trained his eyes to the floor, looked up at Gordon again. Gordon’s face was so earnest it was almost nauseating, but it was sweet too.

“This has been going on with me for so long,” Albert warned him, “I don’t even know if injections will stop the bleeding. I don’t know if anything will.”

“WELL, LET’S HOPE AND PRAY THIS WILL,” Gordon said, offering Albert an easy smile.

Much to his surprise, Albert returned the expression with a smile of his own.


End file.
